


00111100 00110011

by coolangelsthesis



Category: Watch Dogs (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking and Entering, Canon-Typical Violence, Explosions, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Frotting, Hand Jobs, M/M, Making Out, Pining, Post-No Compromise DLC, References to Drugs, Smut, awkward first kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-17 05:14:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17554040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolangelsthesis/pseuds/coolangelsthesis
Summary: After a mission gone sour, things become awkward between Marcus and Wrench.Marcus needs to come up with a plan to get Wrench to talk. Thankfully, the Bratva are always easy targets.





	00111100 00110011

**Author's Note:**

> Hey I love wrencus so much? and I also hate titles?
> 
> Thanks [DramaticalHearts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kusokawaii/pseuds/DramaticalHearts) for being such an awesome beta! I did not plan for this to get this long but it just... sort of happened. Happy reading!

This idea wasn’t going to work, Marcus decided a little too late.

He should have listened to his gut before agreeing to go along with Wrench’s plan. And, to be fair, it seemed like it was going to go well. In a wild turn of events, Wrench thought that going about finding info stealthily was the best course of action, for once.

Deciding that burning the Bratva’s shit to the ground wasn’t enough payback, Wrench suggested they fuck up their drug trafficking, too.

He’d found that they were peddling dangerous shit at raves, stuff that could make people drop like flies only hours after dropping it. Scares had already creeped their way into the media’s daily routines and paranoia was setting in quickly.

The plan was for Marcus to hack into the servers of this rave and follow the trail back to the source. Despite Marcus's constant reassuring that he could handle it by himself, Wrench insisted he would tail along, “in case those blyads tried any shit again”, he said. He designated himself backup, second eyes keeping watch in case shit went down.

It was supposed to be quick and easy. Supposed to, anyway. As it turned out, thumping bass and blinding lightshows and thousands of bodies throbbing in unison made it a little bit hard to concentrate.

Plus, someone had given the Bratva an anonymous tip about DedSec meddling with their shit.

Marcus was deep in the middle of the crowd of people grinding against one another and sucking faces. Not the best place to be hacking, but far from the worst he’d ever experienced. He shuddered at the passing thought of the countless times he’s twisted himself into cramped storage closets. Here, while trying to bypass the warehouse’s security mainframe, rapidly working on his phone would have been too obvious anywhere else.

And then Wrench appeared as he usually did, loudly and clumsily. He shoved his way through the crowd, movements jerky and panicked. He grabbed Marcus's shoulders, shaking him hard to get his attention.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. _Shit_! They’re coming, Marcus,” Wrench gasped. “They know we’re here.”

“Wait, Bratva?” Marcus looked up from his phone. “What happened?”

“I don’t know, man, but…”

Wrench motioned over towards one of the doors to backstage. Some fifteen Bratva men, wielding huge guns, had begun filing through the crowd of people.

This was bad. Made worse by the two of them being together. They were easy targets. This idea wasn’t going to work.

Marcus swallowed hard. “Fuck.”

“Yeah. We’re fucked.”

Trying to keep his cool, Marcus kept his eyes focused on the Bratva as they pushed their way through the crowd, searching through the sea of faces.

“We’re not fucked, we just gotta hide,” he said. “They’ll catch us if we run right now. We gotta… uh… _shit_...”

He was being pushed backwards deeper into the crowd— was Wrench the one pushing him? It didn’t matter. Bratva were closing in on them. If they started firing, it would be a bloodbath. And they were coming close. Too close.

“Wrench, what the fuck are you doing?” Marcus asked, not expecting much of an answer. “This isn’t helping.”

“I’ve… I’ve got an idea.” Wrench paused, dropping one of his hands from Marcus's shoulders. “M, don’t hold what I’m about to do against me, okay?”

“What—”

He only had a second to think about how Wrench’s voice didn’t have its normal distortion before something soft pressed against his lips.

Then his mind went blank. Wrench was...

Wrench was kissing him.

He made a sound of surprise, but the noise stayed stuck in his throat. Despite his better judgment, he tore his eyes away from the Bratva.

Wrench’s mask had been pushed up over his nose and the glowing eyes were concealed under his hood. He had his head turned slightly, probably saving Marcus from the bite from the mask’s spikes. And his lips were—

This was no time for dwelling, Marcus had to remind himself, turning his gaze back to the gang members. The one that looked like their leader was approaching them fast.

Marcus made eye contact with the big, burly guy, and his blood ran cold. They’d been caught. His body tensed up, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. His mind was screaming-- he was being kissed and he was about to be shot at and they were going to have to run and the music was so fucking loud or was that his heartbeat and Wrench, The Wrench, his best friend Wrench, was kissing him?

… But the Bratva member didn’t pay him any attention. His eyes only briefly passed over him before turning to the rest of the people around them. Finding nothing, he continued forward on his search. The rest of the gang members followed suit.

And then they were clear. Wrench must have felt Marcus relax, since he pulled out of their shallow kiss and pushed his mask back down. The mask barely flicked between expressions, remaining stuck on two ellipses.

The silence was long and tense, cut through violently by the thump of the rave’s EDM beat.

“Uhh… sorry… about that,” Wrench finally said, his voice quieter than usual. Red was starting to bud across his neck, Marcus noticed. “Everyone here is fucking with their clothes on, it would have looked suspicious if we weren’t… you know…”

Wrench’s hands and the expression on his mask moved wildly, miming some crude sexual motion.

Marcus blinked once, twice, still not entirely sure if what just happened was real. If any of this was real.

“No, no, I get it… yeah,” Marcus replied weakly. “I can’t believe that really worked.”

“Ahah… yeah.” Wrench paused. “If it will make you feel any better, you are free to kick me in the balls. Make me infertile.”

“Wrench, it’s alright,” he said, getting distracted by the lingering feeling of Wrench’s lips against his. “Just didn’t expect I’d be kissing y… someone tonight. You saved our asses, though, thanks.”

He held his hand out for a fist bump. Wrench hesitated for a moment before meeting fists.

“Don’t mention it. You know, like, to anyone. Ever.”

Marcus looked around for the Bratva again. They had started a second sweep and were working their way back towards them.

“I got you, man,” he said, wrapping an arm around Wrench’s shoulders to lead him through the crowd. Why did his warmth make his heart race? “But we gotta get out of here. Like _fast_.”

Wrench nodded, eyes turning to question marks. “Wanna get so blackout drunk that we forget any of that happened?”

Marcus laughed a little, despite himself. Wrench’s words cut strange— not that Marcus could tell why.

“Alright, yeah.”

\---

But getting drunk didn’t really stop Marcus from dwelling on it. If anything, it made him dwell worse. Every time Wrench would lift up his mask to take a sip of his beer, Marcus caught sight of his lips or the sharp cut of his jaw, and his heart started beating a little bit faster.

Wrench only brought it up once, to have Marcus promise he wouldn’t mention it to anyone. He agreed, albeit hesitantly. And then it was never brought up again, hopefully on the terms that it would never be thought of again.

But Marcus couldn’t stop thinking about it. The feeling of Wrench’s lips on his, the crazy drumming of his heart that still carried over whenever his mind drifted back to that moment. It was especially bad when it happened while on the job.

‘So, Marcus, why did you get shot at?’ Sitara would ask while cleaning this newfound wound he would get while distracted in a place he wasn’t supposed to be. To which he would reply with, ‘Oh, you know, ‘cause I can’t stop thinking about kissing Wrench. No, not because I like him or anything but his lips are surprisingly soft? No, I do not like Wrench. Like that. You know… _like_ like.’

Four days. This was the longest Marcus had gone without hearing from Wrench. And it was starting to drive him insane. He _just_ wanted to talk about it, to alleviate this awkward tension between them. But Wrench was avoidant, mostly keeping to his garage.

So when Marcus— who didn’t know exactly where he was going when he left his apartment— found himself in front of Wrench’s garage, he wasn’t particularly surprised. He was lonely.

If the punk anthems blaring loud enough for the whole block to hear and the crunch of something heavy crashing into metal were any indication of Wrench’s mental state, he was probably somewhere between pissed and avoiding any inkling of emotion possible. He needed better coping mechanisms.

Marcus pulled open the garage door enough to duck his way in. He was met by an explosion of chaos, torn-up computer and vehicle parts thrown in every direction, and Wrench standing on the hood of a beaten-up and graffiti-dick-covered Ferrari.

Wrench’s foot was about to go through the car’s front windshield when Marcus hacked off the garage’s stereo.

Confused and irritated, Wrench hissed something under his breath and searched around for the culprit. Landing eyes on Marcus, his mask switched over to two exclamation points, then excited carats.

“Marcus!” he enthused, jumping from the car to the ground. He gestured towards his latest prize. “Look at this bad boy I got my hands on.”

“You mean stole?” Marcus laughed.

“Politely borrowed, excuse you. The fucker who was driving it nearly ran into me, so I decided his baby needed a little remodeling. What do you think? Can you feel my _artistic vision_?” He added pretentious emphasis to the last phrase, accompanied by a winking emoticon.

“I get the feeling that this guy was a bit of a dick.”

“Ding ding ding! Deep down, I always knew I was destined to be an artist.” Wrench laughed for a moment, letting it linger on a bit too long. His face fell, the eyes of his mask turning down.

There was that awkward silence again, the unnatural dip in conversation they usually never had.

Wrench must have felt it too. “So, uh, what’s up, M?”

He said it so casually, like they hadn’t ever gone this long without talking. Why’d it make Marcus's chest feel uncomfortably tight?

“Well, I haven’t really heard from you in a while. None of us have,” Marcus said, trying to play it cool. He had to ease into it gently. “You alright?”

“ _Yes_ , I’m fine. Great, actually.” Wrench paused for a moment. “Yeah, I haven’t been the _most_ chatty, but I’ve been… working on some personal projects. You know, ‘weapons of destruction’ and all that.” He turned back to his work bench, where an old VHS player was torn up from the inside out. “I’m making a new gun for the printer… and stuff.”

“Uh-huh.” There was definitely destruction, but looking around, nothing from it looked salvageable.

The uncanny silence spread.

Sighing, Marcus decided to just do it already. Say what they were both thinking. “Look, do you wanna talk about it?”

Wrench went stiff for a moment, focusing in harder on the mess of wires in his hands. When he spoke again, every word sounded pointed, calculated, quiet. “Talk about… what?”

He should have expected that. “C’mon, Wrench, you know what.”

“No, Marcus, I really don’t. And-and-and, okay, even if I _was_ trying to forget about something that happened, which I’m not, I definitely would not want to talk about that either. Okay?”

He looked over his shoulder at Marcus, his mask unmoving from the default X’s. Having even less to guess Wrench’s current emotion with was painful.

Marcus had gone quiet for too long now and made it awkward. More awkward. They were waist-deep in awkward by now.

His gaze fell to the floor, trying to ignore the painful sting deep down somewhere. “Alright, man. I get it.”

“Sorry that I’m a professional dick.”

“Well…” He wasn’t going to argue against facts. However, he figured he’d change the offer a little. “Do your ‘weapons of destruction’ need any help? Kinda miss hanging with my best friend, even if he is a dick sometimes.”

Wrench’s mask lit up gleefully for a brief moment, before switching, turning something downcast. He turned his whole body around, still busying himself with the junk on his table.

“I appreciate it, but I think I still need some Wrench-time. I work better when I can shout at inanimate objects.” Wrench paused, only drawing out their mutual discomfort. “Uh… but… if you need help with anything, call me.”

“Wrench—“

“I’ll talk to you later, M.”

Then that was that. Wrench went back to… whatever chaos he had started, leaving Marcus feeling even worse than when he came over.

That couldn’t have gone worse if he had tried. As a courtesy before he left, he started back up the Dead Kennedys after closing the garage door behind him.

Wrench shouted a ‘Thanks’ over the loud guitar riff.

\---

When he left, Marcus didn’t think he was sulking.

When he woke up on the Hackerspace couch after an unexpected nap, he considered the possibility that he might be sulking.

The hackerspace felt lonelier without Wrench, Marcus thought, stirring. There wasn’t the sound of tinkering to accompany him as he typed in code. There wasn’t something indignant pointed at the end of everyone’s sentences. Everything felt incomplete.

He didn’t even realize he was staring towards the famed Wrench Bench until Sitara obstructed his field of view.

She always had this talent of looking beyond pissed and deeply concerned at the same time.

“So. Do you feel like talking about why you two are acting like children?” she asked. “You’re moping.”

“And Wrench is out stealing and breaking shit.” Marcus sighed, plopping his head back down on the couch. “It’s just… something happened, he doesn’t want to talk about it. It’s nothing, Sitara.”

He stopped himself before getting into too much detail, but she was persistent. She nudged Marcus's feet off of the couch’s arm, forcing him up so she could take a spot next to him.

“Bullshit, it’s nothing. You’re both avoiding each other and you’re both hurting because of it. So either you continue suffering while keeping up this silent treatment, or you act like _adults_ and make up. Considering we have shit to be doing, I would choose the latter.”

Marcus couldn’t argue against that.

“Tell me what’s up,” Sitara continued, “Sulking like an emo kid isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

Marcus stayed quiet for a minute, rubbing his face in his hands. “We said we wouldn’t talk about it.”

“And that’s been working really well, hasn’t it?”

His silence was telling enough. Frustrated, he held his hands up in defeat. “Alright, fine.”

They _had_ said not to talk to anyone about it, but keeping it bottled in for so long was pure torture. And Sitara wouldn’t let him go until he talked it out. There was no other choice.

“When we almost got caught by the Bratva, we needed to hide, and so,” he began, trying not to think about how badly he wanted to get out of this situation. He met Sitara’s gaze, sighing. “... Wrench kissed me.”

Sitara’s eyes lit up. Then, she grinned and gently socked him in the arm.

“Aw, Marcus, that’s great, I’m so happy for you!” She read the confusion on his face and her smile fell. “What?”

That was not the reaction he was expecting.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Now Sitara looked confused. “You two have been flirting for months.”

“ _What_?!” He sputtered, dumbfounded. “Just ‘cause we’re close doesn’t mean shit. We don’t flirt. Besides, Wrench is like that with everyone, he’s always been.”

“Uh-huh,” Sitara said. She wasn’t buying him for one moment. “So what about you flirting back?”

“Yo, Sitara, are you for real? I don’t flirt with him.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, come _on_ , Marcus! I have a whole hard drive of the gay shit you’ve said to him. We can take a listen if you like.”

Marcus opened his mouth to argue back, but a sound— or lack thereof— caught their attention. The usual click of keyboards from the far corner of the room had stopped.

The two turned to see Josh looking at them, ready and waiting to talk.

“You aren’t subtle about it,” he said. “You stare at his butt a lot. Wrench programmed those heart eyes into his mask after you joined because it kept going blank.”

Then Josh turned back to his work, keyboard clicking away. A moment later, he paused again.

“Oh, and Wrench is only like that to you,” he added before going silent.

And the silence lingered.

Sitara threw him a knowing look, one that reeked of _Told you so._

If even Josh could tell, well... fuck. He had no legs to stand on now. His head— or was it his heart?— started pounding. None of this shit made any sense.

“You guys have got to be fucking with me. We don’t flirt,” he repeated, raising his voice a little to ensure Josh could hear. “And I do _not_ stare at Wrench’s ass.”

“Ohhh yes you do, especially after you’ve been drinking,” Sitara said. "Don't you remember that time in Castro when he jumped up on stage with the drag queens? I saw you staring, Marcus."

“Oh my god.” He wanted to change the subject as far away from Wrench’s ass as possible because thinking about it made him realize that maybe, sometimes, he did find himself staring at it. He mentally blocked out that night, too. “What about that waitress then, huh? He had me play matchmaker for him.”

“Wait, he seriously didn’t tell you about it? Damn.”

That couldn't be good. Something Wrench hadn’t even told him? “What happened?”

“They went on a couple dates then called it off. Don’t worry, it was a mutual thing. She said he was interested in someone else. And of course, he denied that it was you.”

"Course not. Because he doesn't like me like that, Sitara." Shaking his head in disbelief, he began searching the Wrench Bench for a picture of that girl Wrench had hung up somewhere.

It wasn’t there.

There was, however, a selfie shot of the two of them at Swelter Skelter.

Dammit, Sitara had that look again. With a smug smile, she folded her arms.

“When it comes to love, you two are dumb as fuck.”

Internally, Marcus was screaming. This was a dream, right? One of those nightmares that are almost too realistic?

“Look, it wouldn’t be a problem if we were into each other, you know that, but we’re not. _He’s_ not into me,” he insisted. Then paused.

Realization began trickling through in waves.

“... Is that why Wrench is avoiding me?”

Sitara rolled her head back, sighing in relief. “Took you long enough.”

“Fuck,” Marcus muttered. Things were starting to make a lot more sense. “Fuck, I’m such an idiot.”

“Let me guess, kissing you set off this avalanche of feelings he has for you, and you’ve just realized you’re madly in love with him, too, huh?”

“Hey, I never said that— I mean, I… I don’t know.”

“Well, that’s a step in the right direction.” She pat him on the shoulder before gently pushing him out of his seat. “But no matter what, you _need_ to go talk to him. Knowing Wrench, he’s spiraling. And that’s never good.”

“Yeah. The problem is getting him to talk.” He grabbed his laptop bag off of the floor and wandered towards the direction of hackerspace entrance. There was no way any of this was real. He was caught in a nightmare that was a bit too real, and soon he would wake up and none of this shit would be happening. “I can think of something.”

“Don’t forget to give him a big, long smooch while you’re at it,” Sitara teased.

Marcus laughed a little, flipping her off before ascending the stairs.

He knew he wasn’t dreaming.

\---

Several hours later, Marcus was waiting near the shipyard on the top of an unused warehouse. He looked up from his laptop to find Wrench pulling himself up onto the building’s rooftop. He really came. Marcus had started to get worried.

Wrench nodded when they acknowledged one another. He wandered over and took a seat next to him. Still further away than he usually ever did.

“So. Why did you call me here exactly, M?”

“Nice to see you, too. Josh found where Bratva’s getting their supplies.” Trying to ignore the stifling tension between them, Marcus moved his laptop so Wrench could see. He played back footage of gang members slipping into the loading docks. “Overseas. Can you guess from where?”

“Fuckin’ Russians.” Wrench’s mask turned into slanted lines. “It’s crazy how people just fucking _suck_ at inspecting incoming goods. Unless... someone is paying them off?”

Marcus nodded, showing Wrench where the timestamp in the footage jumped forward. “And they didn’t do too good of a job of scrubbing the evidence. _That’s_ why I called you here.”

He fished into his bag, pulled out a couple of sticky bombs, and plopped them in front of Wrench. The stoic-and-quiet act Wrench was playing vanished. His mask briefly flashed back and forth between question marks and exclamation points.

“Ooooh! _For me_?” He reached for one, inspecting its craftsmanship. “Ooh, these are nasty puppies. They make a bigass explosion.” He held it close to his chest, showing off pleased carats at Marcus. “Aw, you shouldn’t have.”

Marcus made a mental note that explosives made Wrench light up like a kid in a candy store.

“I’d like to give you the honors of blowing their shit up. How’s that sound?”

“ _Ah-mazing!_ You know, I always had this fantasy of blowing up cargo badass-vigilante-justice style, but I never got around to it.”

“Well, better late than never, right?”

He raised his arm for a fistbump, which Wrench quickly matched.

“You plant the bombs, I’ll keep watch from up here. You’ll know which ones are Bratva by the number of guards posted. Sound good?”

“I’ll just follow the smell of borscht and vodka.” Wrench winked. “And whoever has Adidas-embossed machine guns.”

“You know, someone’s going to kick your ass for all the stereotyping you do.”

“Ah, whatever. The Bratva deserve it.”

They were talking like normal again. God, Marcus didn’t realize how much he missed it. If he’d known it just took a couple explosives, he could have saved himself a whole lot of anguish.

And then Wrench was off. Marcus hacked into the closest camera, following after Wrench as he snuck into the unloading dock.

He hid himself behind a row of shipping containers as a security guard moved past.

Wrench was silent for a good thirty seconds before his channel lit up.

“As much as I enjoy you watching my every move, Big Brother style, I gotta know. Why?”

“What do you mean why?” Marcus replied. “And try to be a little quieter.”

Wrench stared up into whatever camera he guessed Marcus was watching him from— which Marcus switched over to, to humor him. His mask was two unamused dashes.

“This just seems like a one-man-mission, I guess. Yeah, you do a lot of the dirty work and yeah, we could all chip in a little more…”

Wrench moved quickly, planting the first bomb when the coast was clear. When he was back in cover, he continued.

“But it just seems… odd. You usually do this kinda stuff on your own.”

“Does not hearing from my friend who likes blowing shit up for a while and knowing he’d like blowing shit up count?”

“Yeah… I guess you’re right.” Wrench had that quiet, reserved sound to his voice again.

Marcus broke through the growing silence. “Hey, how about when we’re done here, we find out which asshole millionaires are out of town, sneak into one of their penthouses, and talk about it then?”

He hoped the ‘talk about it then’ didn’t give too much away, but he swore Wrench hesitated for just a moment.

Instead, Wrench put on the melodramatic, fanning himself and winking at the camera. “ _And_ breaking and entering?! If I didn’t know any better, I’d feel like a dog being given their best day ever before being put down. Wait, are you going to kill me, Marcus?”

“Fuck off,” Marcus laughed, shutting off the feed.

He planted second and third bombs without any issues. Marcus had to give it to him— Wrench was quite tactful when he needed to be.

As he passed from camera to camera, Marcus let his mind wander a little. He’d been trying to ignore how crazy his heart had been racing ever since he called Wrench here, but now he finally let himself dwell on it.

He couldn’t believe how stupid he could be sometimes. He’d been staring down the obvious for a while now, for months, even, but he chose not to see it.

When the FBI grabbed Wrench, he was furious. Part of him still was. Nobody fucks with DedSec like that, and especially not Wrench. Without thinking, he _knew_ he had to get his mask back. He didn’t care if he got shot at. If he got caught. He’d risk his life for it.

When Wrench had put the finishing touches on fucking up the Bratva’s shit, the reason why he put so much finesse into it was obvious. They’d targeted Marcus. And during the firework show, Marcus found himself staring at Wrench far more often than he spent actually watching the show, part of him basking in knowing that all this was for _him_.

Maybe Sitara was right. Maybe he had feelings for Wrench.

He cared about Wrench... well, he cared about all of DedSec, they were a family, of course he cared about him.

Who was he kidding. This was deeper than that.

This was love.

It should have been obvious when he couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss, hell, it should have been obvious a long time ago, even before the FBI. But he had a track record for not knowing when his feelings for friends had turned romantic.

Wrench was… weird. He was violent. He was unpredictable. He said and did things just to get a rise out of people. Somehow, though, he was able to run with it. He made weird work for him.

But Wrench was so much more than just weird. He was brilliant. He was an excellent programmer. He was hilarious. He had amazing taste in 80’s action and sci-fi. He was fiercely protective. He cared deeply. And under that mask, despite whatever Wrench thought about himself, he was… he was cute.

Marcus loved everything about him, weird and all.

Yeah, Marcus had it bad for a while, but couldn’t bring it in himself to admit it. He pushed his feelings down deep, so far down that he’d stopped entertaining the thought entirely. If they ever bubbled to the surface again, he just blamed it as a side effect of whatever vice he chose to chase them off in the first place.

He thought he was saving himself from a broken friendship and a broken heart by convincing himself he never had a chance. But now, maybe...

Not knowing he was grinning, Marcus honed his focus back onto the mission. Wrench was on the last container now, the largest load by the amount of guards patrolling the area.

Wrench was hiding behind a truck, slowly easing towards closer cover. Around the corner from Wrench, a Bratva member moved out of position, catching sight of something where it shouldn’t have been.

Marcus's grin fell immediately, panic settling in his stomach instead.

 _Fuck_.

Wrench had been seen.

“Fuck, Marcus, I fucked up,” Wrench hissed, moving fast but keeping himself low. He climbed onto a cluster of containers, remaining pressed against the side in shadow. “I need a distraction.”

Marcus was already busy putting his laptop away. “I’m on it. Stay hidden.”

Whatever switch had been flipped during the FBI incident flicked back on again— all instinct, no thought. Quietly he snuck into the dock, using the guards’ patrolling to his advantage. Whipping out his gun, he waited for the moment when most of the Bratva were in line of sight. Able to see him.

He shot three bullets into one of the containers, the sound ricocheting through the air. As he’d predicted, all of the Bratva whipped around towards him.

One of the larger guys shouted something in Russian and Marcus _ran_. Several of the Bratva followed after him. He didn’t know where he was going or what he was doing, but he knew he had to go somewhere far from where Wrench was hiding or supposed to be planting the last bomb. He didn’t care if this would end up badly, all that mattered was that Wrench was safe.

The sharp crack of shots being fired made his ears ring. He just barely dodged a bullet going straight into his arm.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, clutching onto his shoulder like it had landed just the same. His feet slipped, he stumbled, and the Bratva closest on his tail was close enough now to grab him.

Thinking fast, he grabbed his thunderball and knocked the guy right in the jaw. Spraying blood, he fell to the ground.

Marcus booked it in the opposite direction, choosing to slip into an empty container to get them off his tail. The shouting moved past him, then grew distant. When the coast seemed clear, he sighed with relief, then let his head fall against the cool metal.

Wrench’s feed opened again. “Got the last of them. You clear?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Marcus said, poking his head out of the corner to check. They were at a distance now, still spitting curses and insults into the air. The planted containers were far away enough that it wouldn’t be too bad. A little nauseating at best. He crouched down, bracing for impact. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Marcus could feel his giddiness through the voice call. “Ooh, I was waiting for you to say that! Now let’s see here...”

Wrench hummed as he set up the bombs to go at once.

It was quick. Sudden. The loud boom of explosives. The ground shaking. The Bratva’s shouting turned panicked. Close by, the night had been lit up in smoky orange.

Marcus clung to the container for dear life against the blast of the explosion. On the other end of the line, Wrench was laughing and whooping wildly.

“That. Was. Fucking amazing!” Wrench hollered. “You’re the best, Marcus, you know that? _The_ best. Now get the fuck out of there before someone blows you up.”

Once things settled a little, he made it for one of the dock’s exits.

“Yo, Wrench, wanna see if you can find out which rich assholes are out of town?”

“You got it. Meet ya there.”

\---

Wrench had chosen a nice place— a great view of both the bay and the city, a large and lush patio, a hot tub, too. The back wall, all glass, could partition open at the touch of a button.

“That was crazy stupid, dude, having them chase you like that,” Wrench said as Marcus approached him after hacking through the penthouse’s security. They met in a fist bump. “But I appreciate that I’m rubbing off on you. Isn’t a little bit of chaos fun every once and a whle?”

Wrench’s mask winked and Marcus laughed him off. “Yeah, whatever. Next time _you_ be the one getting shot at and see how much you enjoy it.”

“Gladly!”

Wrench wandered into the kitchen, overly bougie and decked out with Haum goods. Fishing into the fridge, he pulled out two beers and tossed one at Marcus.

As he caught it, he almost started to feel guilty for the whole breaking and entering thing, and now stealing. But then he remembered that the asshole who owned this penthouse had created an anti-spyware software that, ironically enough, fed its users data directly to Blume, so then he didn’t feel bad at all. Maybe his fancy couches needed some tasteful slashes cut into them, too.

He followed Wrench onto the patio, near the edge of the penthouse to a ritzy and pretentious lounge that took advantage of the incredible view. Near the edge of the water, smoke was still billowing up from the remnants of their dirty work.

Wrench made a display of sinking into the couch. He pat the seat next to him, beckoning Marcus over with his other hand.

Marcus tried not to think about how fast his heart was racing as he sat down.

“You think the Bratva learned their lesson now?” Marcus asked.

“They won’t fuck with DedSec again unless they’re even more brainless than I thought. Honestly though, I’ll take any excuse to blow up their shit.”

“Knew you’d say that.”

They shared a laugh, clinking their beers together. Marcus caught himself staring when Wrench pushed up his mask to take a swig.

“Thanks, Marcus,” Wrench said, his tone turning gentler. “I really missed doing stupid shit with you.”

“Me too.”

They both went quiet— except this time, it wasn’t tense. It was comfortable.

Marcus figured now was the best time to bring it up. He guessed that if Wrench didn’t want to talk about it, he wouldn’t close off as badly as he’d done earlier.

So when Wrench spoke up first, it caught Marcus off guard.

“So, uh…” Wrench turned towards him, mask flashing question marks. “You wanted to talk?”

“Yeah… do you want to?”

“Well, I’d really like to not think about how I made things _really_ awkward between us, but things will only get _more_ awkward if we don’t talk about it… so… yes?”

“Alright.” Marcus took a long sip of his beer, hoping it would catch up quickly to give him the boost of confidence he desperately needed. “It doesn’t have to be awkward, man. It happened, and it saved both of our asses. So what?”

“Best friends usually don’t kiss each other, dude.”

“Well… not necessarily.” Marcus swallowed hard, told the nervous pit in his stomach to fuck off, and got brave. He set his beer down on the table, preparing himself. “Not unless they want to.”

“... Huh?”

Gently, Marcus set a hand on Wrench’s shoulder, avoiding the spikes as much as possible. His other hand went for the mask, pushing it up like he’d seen Wrench do countless times before, just enough to expose his lips. As Marcus moved in closer, Wrench’s mask flashed exclamation points and he let out a soft gasp.

Marcus didn’t mind that the spikes on Wrench’s mask were digging into his his nose and cheeks, because relishing in the feeling of kissing Wrench again was just too nice. This time he could dwell on it— the soft warmth of his lips, Wrench’s sigh as he relaxed into it, the mask’s eyes fixed on two ‘<3’s.

Then just as quickly as it had began, Marcus pulled away. As a courtesy, he pushed the mask back down. His heart was beating out of his chest, but he managed to crack a smile. “Now we’re even.”

Sometimes Marcus wished he could see what expression Wrench had on underneath the mask. This was one of them. He remained frozen stiff, mask moving through a whole spectrum of emotions.

“... Wrench?”

Wrench made a sound not unlike that of a dying cat, then both hands were on his mask. He yanked it off, tossing it somewhere on the couch.

Marcus only got a brief glimpse of Wrench's face, only catching a look at his vibrant blue eyes boring into his before Wrench lunged forward, pulling Marcus back into another kiss. Deeper this time. More frantic.

Wrench didn’t waste any time before pushing further, and Marcus gladly accepted. Wrench tasted like cigarettes and the rizty pale ale they’d stolen, and Wrench made a gentle noise in the back of his throat as Marcus’s tongue passed over the roof of his mouth.

He settled into the couch a little and Wrench closed the space between them, practically straddling him. He had his hands on Marcus's shoulders, squeezing them tightly. The feeling coupled with their deep kissing felt amazing.

He was kind of surprised by how good of a kisser Wrench was— he could never tell if the mask made things more difficult or not. Turns out, Wrench being just marginally more okay with other people seeing his lower face when he pushed it up to drink or eat (or, well, make out) made it easier, and he was good at it. Really good at it. The pace he moved at left Marcus breathless.

When Marcus's lungs begged for air, he pulled out of the kiss. Now finally able to get a good look at Wrench’s face, he was flushed pink all over, lips glossy, hair falling into his eyes. Wrench only gave him a brief grace period before he was trying to get back on him again, to continue where they left off.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Marcus breathed, gently pushing Wrench back. “I thought we were gonna talk.”

Wrench’s eyes narrowed a bit, pouting like a scolded child. “We were, but then you kissed me! You kissed me first, dude! Not cool.”

“Okay, true.” He laughed a little, his hand finding where Wrench was holding onto him. He weaved his fingers through Wrench’s. “Couldn’t help myself, though. Haven’t stopped thinking about it for days.”

“You too? Shit, Marcus...”

Wrench went quiet, seeming to realize how shy he felt without the mask on. He kept his eyes focused on their conjoined hands.

“So… I… I’m really bad with this, uh, this sort of stuff, but… I...”

“I like you too, Wrench,” Marcus smiled, pressing a kiss against the ruddy birthmark. “I like you a whole fucking lot. Have for a while, too.”

Wrench just… grinned, and it was truly the most perfect thing Marcus had ever seen. He felt like he’d seen it before through the mask, that pure unbridled joy. It was like he’d found a piece of the puzzle he hadn’t known he’d lost.

Wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug, he buried his head into Marcus's neck. Marcus guessed he didn’t know how to feel about being seen without his mask. Especially now, of all times.

“Yeah, well... I love you,” Wrench mumbled, only audible from the proximity to Marcus's ear. “So… beat that.”

Marcus’s heart soared, savoring every bit of Wrench saying it out loud. “Funny you say that, ‘cause I love you, too.”

Marcus could feel Wrench grinning against him. He kissed him on the side of the neck.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cry with all this sappy shit. And I’m an ugly crier, M. You would _not_ want to see that.”

“You never know, I think I’d like to see you happy-cry.”

“Pff, whatever.” He paused, tone lowering. “Marcus.”

“Hm?”

“I think we should stop being best friends,” Wrench said it with about as serious of a tone as he could manage. He lifted his head from Marcus’s shoulder, meeting his gaze. He _had_ been crying. Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. He cracked a smirk, despite himself. “Boyfriends, though? That sounds fucking awesome.”

Marcus laughed, holding Wrench— The Wrench, his best friend Wrench, his boyfriend Wrench— closer.

“I’m all for being boyfriends, but you’re still gonna be my best friend.”

“Okay, maybe those aren’t mutually exclusive,” Wrench said, nuzzling his lower lip against Marcus's earlobe. His touch lingered on the small of Marcus's back, grazing downwards. “But it just feels way too close to fuck buddies.”

Marcus leaned into the touch, hands slipping under Wrench’s heavy metal vest to ease it off. The punk shit made getting it on too difficult. “That’s a very good point. Fuck buddies sounds kinda weird.”

He leaned in and pressed his lips to the center of Wrench’s neck, in the middle of the anarchy tattoo. Then he hollowed out his cheeks and sucked. Hard. Wrench let out a pleased little yelp, getting revenge by biting down on his earlobe. And… Marcus liked it more than he wanted to admit.

He laughed, then Wrench joined in, and he loved the sound so much, especially when he could hear it without the mask’s distortion.

Their lips naturally met in another kiss, this one slower, gentler. Without pace and without any real direction. Taking turns leading the other. Simply relishing in how each other felt.

When Wrench shifted into a more comfortable position, his leg brushed Marcus’s crotch. Marcus stifled back a sound, feeling shameful as his attention was fully brought to how hard his dick was throbbing.

Wrench pulled out of their kiss, his eyes trailing downward. He smirked.

“Oho, _someone_ ’s excited.”

Without hesitating, Wrench moved down and wrapped his hand around Marcus’s dick through his pants, squeezing softly. Marcus bit his lip to hide back the sound, but Wrench was insistent, slowly squeezing harder and harder until the moan escaped his mouth.

“Touch me, too,” he begged, voice low and desperate. Marcus obliged, grabbing the front of his jeans. He made a low moan, trying to push deeper into Marcus’s touch.

“Looks like someone’s excited, too,” Marcus mused, laughing before sweeping Wrench back into another short kiss.

Their hands mirrored one another— working free the front of each other’s pants, under the hem of each other’s underwear, freeing each other’s cocks, working each other slowly, playfully.

Marcus let himself melt, savoring the sweetness of being touched. Wrench was enjoying himself too; he was quite vocal, probably unaware of the little sounds he made. God, Marcus thought distantly, Wrench was really hot.

Marcus’s mind, clouded by horny want, got the vague inkling of an idea. Their dicks were close enough to each other that they could touch. Doing just that, he pushed himself forward a little, enveloping both of their dicks in his hand, and squeezing.

Wrench let out a little pained gasp, breaking out of their kiss out of surprise. He laughed, then followed after him. He made sure to thumb the tip of Marcus’s dick on the upward stroke.

“I was just down for a handjob, but this is nice too,” he said, planting a kiss to the side of Marcus’s jaw. “Sexy.”

“Do you ever not talk?” Marcus asked, only half-joking. “Kinda ruining the mood here.”

“Only if you can make me.” Wrench winked, toying with a seductive smirk.

Marcus took that as a challenge. He quickened his pace, moving in short, quick strokes until Wrench was a moaning, writhing mess, clinging to Marcus’s shoulders to keep himself upright. He’d kind of forgotten to be taking care of Marcus too, but it was better this way— he was close himself, and getting Wrench off felt more important.

It only took a couple more strokes before Wrench buried himself in Marcus’s neck, muffling his moans in his skin as he came, hard, into Marcus’s hand.

He went still for a moment, to catch his breath before turning his turning his attention back to Marcus, easing back into stroking him up and down.

The brief cooldown only made it so that his touch felt even better. Marcus let his eyes drift closed as he neared his peak. Wrench was kissing under his ear, more biting than kissing, and he didn’t even have time to think about the pain before his orgasm rocked through him, drowning in pleasant sweetness. Wrench milked him dry until it almost started to hurt— not that Marcus minded any. Just being touched by Wrench was almost enough to keep him half-hard.

Relishing in the afterglow, neither of them dared to move. Simply matched the rising and falling of each other’s breath. After a little while, Wrench settled against his chest, sighing happily. Marcus kissed the top of his head.

Then, realization set in a little.

“We came on our fucking clothes.”

Wrench visibly deflated. “ _Fuck_.”

\---

With help of a WikiHow on how to prevent jizz stains, they cleaned themselves up as best as they could. After that, they fucked around in other areas of the apartment. Making out on these areas, messing up those paintings, unsettling everything just enough to make the jackass who owned the place go nuts. They settled on the large living room, idly flicking through channels and channels of TV— why would anyone even pay for cable anymore when the internet exists, Wrench complained while flipping through channels of old cartoons.

Cuddled up close, Wrench had his head resting against Marcus’s shoulder. Their hands laid between them, idly clasped together.

What a crazy turn of events, Marcus thought to himself. In a matter of hours, they’d gone from awkwardly not talking to making out to confessing love to jerking each other off to boyfriends who cuddle while watching TV. Boyfriends. The word still felt unreal. But it felt right. There had always been this feeling lingering somewhere between the two of them, making it feel like they’d been together for months. Now it was official.

Marcus brought it up out of nowhere, curiosity getting the better of him.

“When did it start?”

Wrench stirred a little. “Huh?”

“You know...” He gestured to the their intertwined hands. "Feelings."

"When did I start being gay for you?"

"Well... yeah." As for Marcus, he would have to make up a good explanation as for when he realized, because Wrench would be insufferable if he knew it had happened while he was planting explosives. He was not opening up that can of worms for himself for as long as he could manage.

Wrench clicked his tongue while lost in thought. “Since you joined DedSec? But I think I only realized it after you got my mask back. Kind of hard not to after that, you know? I mean, I wouldn’t show my face to just anyone.” He gestured to his currently maskless face with a grimace. "Sorry, by the way."

“It's a good face, man. I happen to like it a lot.”

Wrench rode off his compliment with an eyeroll. “But nobody would have done shit like that for me, like, ever. So, yeah, I fell pretty hard, I guess.”

“Aw, c’mon. You’re making it out like I’m some sorta hero. Anyone in DedSec would have done it for you.”

“But the difference is that you did it. You _are_ a hero, dude.” Wrench pulled him into a tight hug. “You’re totally a hero. How do you think we’ve gotten so far, huh? All because of you, our brave, mighty, benevolent hero!”

“Stoopp,” he laughed, pushing against the hug but secretly enjoying it. “No, I’m not. DedSec doesn’t have heroes.”

“Fine.” He pulled out of the hug, digging into his pocket for his phone.  “If you don’t believe me, which crushes my soul, by the way, then…”

He pulled up the DedSec channel. Sitara answered first.

“What’s up, Wrench? You talk to Marcus?”

“Yes, yes... okay— that’s a different thing, I’ll get to that...” Wrench’s voice went gravely serious. “I need your help.”

“What?” She started to sound panicked. “What is it? Why does your voice sound different?”

“It’s fine, Sitara. But you’ve got to answer something for me… is Marcus a hero?”

“What the hell is going on, Wrench? I mean,  _duh_ , Marcus is totally a hero. But why does that matter? Is something wrong? Is Marcus there?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I want him to hear you say it. Yes, he’s here, we’re having a bit of a quarrel, and I need your input. And you, Josh?”

“Marcus is a hero,” Josh stated. “But I thought you weren’t talking to him.”

“We’re good. Blew some shit up, talked it out.” Wrench turned to Marcus, looking like he was searching for something. “By the way, we’re dating now.”

“ _Ooooh_?”

“Wrench!” Marcus reached over, trying to snatch the phone out of his hand. Laughing, Wrench kept it at arm’s distance and pushed Marcus away from grabbing it. From the other side of the channel, Sitara was celebrating.

“Uh… she okay, Josh?” Wrench asked.

“She won a bet against Ray.” Josh explained. “Congrats, by the way.”

“Wait, you guys were placing bets?” Marcus butted in, not entirely knowing how he felt about that.

“Fifty dollars, bitches!” she cheered. “Well, since you scared the shit out of me, Wrench, you now owe me one. And right now, I’m wondering why you two aren’t here celebrating with us already?”

“On it!” Wrench shut off the feed and began feeling around for his mask. It had somehow landed on the floor. As Marcus offered him his studded vest, Wrench planted a kiss on his cheek. “Aw, no need to look so shy, M. It makes me want to cancel on Sitara so we can do even worse things on that asshole’s really, _really_ nice bed.”

Marcus rolled his eyes, choosing to ignore the sex comment. “That’s not how I wanted them to find out about it, thank you.”

“Ah well. They’d found out pretty soon anyway, right? Plus, cuddling on the couch.”

“...Okay, cuddling does sound nice.”

Wrench chuckled. He pulled his vest back on, then the mask. It flickered as it booted back on, the default X’s quickly changing to carats. As he turned to Marcus, they quickly turned to hearts. In response, Marcus’s heart fluttered.

“It’s going to be doing that a lot more often now, so get used to it,” Wrench said. Standing up, he offered his hand out to Marcus. “Ready, hero?”

Marcus grinned; he’d never thought it was possible to be this crazy happy. He took Wrench’s hand in his. “Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> Did you know ninja sex party wrote "heart boner" about wrencus.... I know, crazy.
> 
> [Here is a link to a binary converter in case you're curious about the title ;)](https://www.rapidtables.com/convert/number/binary-to-ascii.html)
> 
> Thank you for reading this monster of a fic. Kudos and comments are always appreciated if you enjoyed it!!


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